I think as we get more into blogging we can become more concerned with being polished, with doing it well and sometimes I think we just need to write what is in our minds and hearts. Raw. Real. Unedited.
I am home for Christmas and it feels quite literally the worst. It has been raining for three days and I have been doing nothing of substance.
Nothing of substance! No project, no work, no schoolwork. In my busy moments I often dream and wonder what it would be like to have nothing to do. I could workout multiple times a day. I could read lots of literary books that would make me smart. I could eat really well. I could do tons of writing. I would get so many things done.
What really happens is I fall into slump. A slum of who even bother getting dressed. Who needs to shower. Even netflix can become boring and even tiring after too long. I am not working out like I thought I would.
Instead I feel like I am drifting. With time to think I suddenly ponder my life and I am out of my mind terrified.
Suddenly all my well made plans fall apart. Doubt creeps in. A feeling of worthlessness. A lack of purpose. You are left sitting at home with food spilled on your shirt because you sat on the couch for dinner. And all of this laziness is really not as glorified as it seems. And you just ate an entire box of skittles, and your room needs cleaning and you feel fat and huge. You have not been working out. In fact you just made fun of someone else’s weight on a Christmas card. Because you hope that if someone looks bigger than you think you look then no one will notice the pounds that have crept onto you.
You write a bucket list and are inspired. Yet soon slump back because it is 6 pm and all is dark outside and you have not left the house in three days! Excpet to take out the trash and you know it is bad when you find yourself cleaning.
It’s the holidays so people ask you what your plans are after graduation. Suddenly you feel even more lost and confused than before. Your dreams seems impossible or just silly.
Then you find yourself adamantly and vehemently explaining the hipster movement. Then find yourself on a rant about the rates of mental illness and the inadequacies of our system in dealing with it. You find yourself realizing that you will always be able to find a job. Because the number of people with mental illness is only growing each year. You realize that you might never make a ton of money but you will be able to make a difference.
Then you remember that rainy days don’t last forever. That you have to push out the doubts because they are all lies.
You have to find something good to celebrate even if it is just a glass of wine. You have to remember how lucky you are, and you have to kick all those stupid doubts out and throw them in the trash. Which is not poetic at all but this is unedited and you have to remember that writing is the best therapy.